By this it is not implied that their artillery fire is not good. It is more than good; it is excellent. But the British soldier is a difficult person to impress or depress, even by immense shells filled with high explosive which detonate with terrific violence and form craters large enough to act as graves for five horses.
How far the colossal expenditure of ammunition was thrown away is illustrated by this description of the effect in a given instance:—
At a certain point in our front our advanced trenches on the north of the Aisne are not far from a village on the hillside, and also within a short distance of the German works, being on the slope of a spur formed by a subsidiary valley running north and the main valley of the river. It was a calm, sunny afternoon, but hazy; and from a point of vantage south of the river it was difficult exactly to locate on the far bank the well-concealed trenches of either side. From far and near the sullen boom of guns echoed along the valley and at intervals, in different directions, the sky was flecked with the almost motionless smoke of anti-aircraft shrapnel. Suddenly, without any warning, for the reports of the distant howitzers from which they were fired could not be distinguished from other distant reports, three or four heavy shells fell into the village, sending up huge clouds of smoke and dust, which slowly ascended in a brownish-grey column. To this no reply was made by our side.
Shortly afterwards there was a quick succession of reports from a point some distance up the subsidiary valley on the side opposite our trenches, and therefore rather on their flank. It was not possible either by ear or by eye to locate the guns from which these sounds proceeded. Almost simultaneously, as it seemed, there was a corresponding succession of flashes and sharp detonations in a line on the hill side, along what appeared to be our trenches. There was then a pause, and several clouds of smoke rose slowly and remained stationary, spaced as regularly as a line of poplars. Again there was a succession of reports from the German quick-firers on the far side of the misty valley and—like echoes—the detonations of high explosive; and the row of expanding smoke clouds was prolonged by several new ones.
Another pause, and silence, except for the noise in the distance. After a few minutes there was a roar from our side of the main valley as our field guns opened one after another in a more deliberate fire upon the position of the German guns. After six reports there was again silence, save for the whirr of the shells as they sang up the small valley, and then followed the flashes and balls of smoke—one, two, three, four, five, six, as the shrapnel burst nicely over what in the haze looked like some ruined buildings at the edge of a wood.
Again, after a short interval, the enemy's gunners reopened with a burst, still further prolonging the smoke, which was by now merged into one solid screen above a considerable length of trench, and again did our guns reply. And so the duel went on for some time. Ignoring our guns, the German artillerymen, probably relying on concealment for immunity, were concentrating all their efforts in a particularly forceful effort to enfilade our trenches. For them it must have appeared to be the chance of a lifetime, and with their customary prodigality of ammunition they continued to pour bouquet after bouquet of high-explosive Einheitsgeschoss, or combined shrapnel and common shell, on to our works. Occasionally, with a roar, a high-angle projectile would sail over the hill and blast a gap in the village.
In the hazy valleys bathed in sunlight not a man, not a horse, not a gun, nor even a trench was to be seen. There were only flashes, smoke, and noise. Above, against the blue sky, were several round white clouds hanging in the track of the only two visible human souls—represented by a glistening speck in the air. On high also were to be heard the more or less gentle reports of the bursts of the anti-aircraft projectiles.
Upon inquiry as to the losses sustained it was found that our men had dug themselves well in. In that collection of trenches were portions of four battalions of British soldiers—the Dorsets, the West Kents, the King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, and the King's Own Scottish Borderers. Over 300 projectiles were fired against them. The result was nine men wounded.
On the following day 109 shells were fired at the trenches occupied by the West Kent Regiment alone. Four officers were buried, but dug out unhurt. One man was scratched.
All through the second week of the battle, from September 20 to September 28, there was a succession of night attacks. Those delivered on the nights of September 21 and September 23 were especially violent. In the fierce bayonet fights—sometimes on the line of the trenches—the British infantry never failed to prove their superiority. The losses of the enemy were punishingly heavy, not merely in the fire-fights, but in the pursuit when the survivors turned to fly. The object of these tactics of bombardment throughout the day, and of infantry assaults at night, kept up without intermission, was plainly so to wear the British force down that in the end it must give way and be swept back to the Aisne in rout.
For such a victory the Germans were ready to pay a very high price. They paid it—but for defeat. What may be considered the culminating effort was launched against the trenches held by the 1st division on the extreme British right. The division's advanced position close under the ridge near Craonne had all through been a thorn. On the night of September 27 an apparently overwhelming force was flung upon it. Aided by the play of searchlights the German masses strove with might and main. The fight lasted for hours. To say that it was repulsed is evidence enough. The next night the attack was repeated with, if anything, greater violence. It was the fight of the Guards Brigade over again, but on a greater scale. Imagine such a struggle with 50,000 men involved; a fighting mass nearly three miles in extent; the fire of rifles and machine guns and artillery; the gleam of clashing bayonets; the searchlights throwing momentarily into view the fury of a mêlée and then shutting it off to light up another scene of struggle. Fortunately for the British, the columns of attack were ripped up before the trenches could be reached. Men fell in rows, held up by the wire entanglements and shot wholesale. This was the enemy's last great stroke.
From that time the British won forward until they gained the ridge, seized Craonne and all the hostile positions along the Chemin des Dames.
FOOTNOTES:
[27] The troops of the 5th Division under Sir Charles Fergusson repulsed with equal gallantry a furious attack against their position at Missy, on the west side of the Chivres bluff.
[28] In the official account this singular episode is thus recorded:—"Since the last letter left General Headquarters evidence has been received which points to the fact that during the counter-attacks on the night of Sunday, the 20th, the German infantry fired into each other—the result of an attempt to carry out the dangerous expedient of a converging advance in the dark. Opposite one portion of our position a considerable massing of the hostile forces was observed before dark. Some hours later a furious fusillade was heard in front of our line, though no bullets came over our trenches."